Bullies, Nerds, and Rock n' Roll
by xxStarBrightxx
Summary: Baljeet is finding Buford especially infuriating lately. Buford can feel the tension between them mounting. Will a blast from the past (along with some friendly support from Ferb) give them the confidence to express their feelings? Rated T for language and some mature content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, I know I should probably be working on "His Perfect Storyline" right now, but I've been really into this pairing lately, so I hope you don't mind. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Ya know what I miss?" Buford said, lounging lazily in the grass (he had deemed the lawn chairs "not rugged and manly enough" to lounge in) beneath the tree in the Flynn-Fletcher yard.

"What's that, Buford?" Phineas asked, looking up from the pile of blueprints he'd been sorting through. Today was the day he'd decided to devote to organizing.

"I miss the music." He plucked a blade of grass and twirled it through his fingers. "We used to always burst inta random song and dance all the time. How come we don't do that anymore?" Truthfully, the gang's adventurous exploits remained consistent throughout the years; however, this particular summer (the summer before they all went off to college) had put a strain on their schedules.

"Buford, what are you talking about?" Baljeet straightened up on his lawn chair, balancing a drink in one hand while removing his sunglasses with the other. "We just did a random musical number yesterday."

"I don't mean a stupid girlie musical number!" Buford shouted, sitting up straight. "I mean a real_, manly_ rock n' roll, song with a violent backbeat." Then under his breath: "God, could you get any more gay?"

Baljeet sputtered, nearly choking on his pink lemonade, but before anyone could react, Isabella strolled through the gate.

"Hey guys, whatcha _doin_'?" She said, sweetly as ever.

"Oh hi, Isabella. We were just talking about doing a song today."

"A song?" Isabella frowned. "But we just did that musical number yesterday—"

"I believe Buford would like to focus on the rock and roll genre of music," Ferb interjected. "Perhaps today we could get the Bajeatles back together."

Everyone responded enthusiastically. Buford looked like he was about to make a snarky comment, but was silenced by a look from Ferb. Evidently, the Brit overheard Buford's previous comment.

Phineas jumped into action. "Alright, we're gonna need a stage, so we can set that up around… here. Isabella, can you round up the Fireside Girls to help out? And spread the word! We all have our instruments right? Good. Oh! And the costumes and stage make-up and— hey, where's Perry?"

Pretty soon the backyard was overcome with a flurry of activity. Isabella left to find her troop and put up posters, while the guys stayed busy constructing the stage, and gathering supplies. At some point, the group decided that the concert would have to be held at night, allowing for the best dramatic effect. Ferb began to set up for a laser-light show.

From his spot in the rafters above, Ferb could see everything on the ground. He caught Baljeet's eye for a moment, and the latter granted him a brief smile: a token of thanks for his suggestion, and by extension, his defense of Baljeet's honor.

Ferb was the only one to whom Baljeet told his secret. Not that he thought the others would be unaccepting (although Buford's comment from earlier was starting to make him doubt that assessment). Ferb was just a good person to confide in. Probably because he was such a good listener. When he worked up the courage to finally tell him, he didn't judge, didn't interrupt, just sat there nodding, allowing Baljeet to get out all of those pent-up emotions, all the while managing to calm him down more than any of his other friends probably could.

Of course, he only told Ferb _half_ of the secret.

Baljeet's musings were interrupted as Buford's muscular arm wrapped around his knees and lifted him into the air. "EPPP—BUFURD!" Several people glanced over as Baljeet struggled to maintain his balance.

"Nerd!" Buford's gruff voice reached him. "Someone's gotta get that board up there!"

"Well you could have given me a heads up before you decided to start man-handling me!" He shouted indigently back, cheeks flaming. Still, he complied, securing the board, then allowing Buford to gently set him down in the grass.

"Took you long enough," he scolded. "You ain't as light as ya used to be."

Baljeet scowled and brushed himself off. "But you are just as immature!" He shot back, causing a few more heads to turn in their direction.

"Jeez, what's got your panties in a bunch?" Burford muttered, not used to being rebuffed.

Baljeet was suddenly enraged. "For God's sake, Buford, you are eighteen years old and you still act like you are ten! You will always be just an idiotic, despicable, schoolyard _bully_!" Onlookers gaped at the pair, while Buford could only blink in response, completely taken aback by his nerd's outburst.

"'Jeet, what—?"

"Just leave me alone!" Baljeet stalked away, fists clenched in fury. "And _grow up_!"

A tense silence fell across the yard as Baljeet vanished behind the pavilion. Isabella was the first to speak: "Hey, girls- we need to set up those curtains, come on!" Gradually everyone returned to his or her work, though a little less enthusiastically than before. Phineas, who had not been present for the outburst, came through the gate, unaware of what had just transpired.

"Everyone, guess what? We just got the delivery of chairs, so we can begin to set up the seats for the audience…" As Phineas rambled on with instructions, Ferb observed the scene below him with touch of disapproval. Swiftly, he climbed down from the catwalk above and landed in front of a still-shell-shocked Buford. He blinked, prompting the burly boy to speak.

"What?" Buford snapped. "Don't gimme that look- I didn't do nothin'. The shrimp's the one with the problem!" Ferb blinked again.

"Fine! I'll go and talk to him," Buford said. "No need ta get all pushy."

Ferb shook his head indignantly as Buford turned to go find his nerd. If they only knew…

**A/N: Weeeellll? What do you think? I'm actually pretty excited about this story, but I may need some help with some of the later chapters, namely song writing. So if anyone has any ideas about what Baljeet would be singing, you know what to do! Also, reviews of any kind are always very welcome **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all of the wonderful feedback! It's so awesome to get reviews- you have no idea how much it makes my day! Special shout-out to the "reviewer of the week" (or chapter, I guess, because I'm updating much more sporadically than on a weekly basis): CorieChan **** Just so you all know, the "reviewer of the week" gets a special prize: a virtual hug from me!**

**No? That's not a good incentive? How about a virtual hug from Perry the Platypus? **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Me no own.**

Buford wandered around the back of the stage, taking his time searching for his nerd. There was no trace of him, and Buford rolled his eyes at the tantrum. "'Jeet! Come on, man!" he called. "I'm sorry for…ya know, what ever I did," he mumbled to himself, exasperated by Baljeet's actions, and opened the back door. A short staircase led to the backstage area. Switches and buttons lined the wall on stage left, with wires and amps scattered across the floor. Buford made his way down the back hallway. It contained racks of clothes and a large vanity covered in dark-toned face make-up and bottles of hair gel. Buford scrunched up his face at the sight of the flashy stage clothes, taking a moment to contemplate what he was going to have to wear that night. He suddenly regretted suggesting they do this stupid project.

He quickened his pace, making his way to stage right, passing more equipment and maintenance closet. He did a double take, wondering what the hell _that_ was doing here. Phineas and Ferb's creations never lasted more that a few hours. Why would there need to be maintenance on a stage whose life expectancy lasted roughly one night?

Finally, he turned a corner around a large plywood box and spotted his nerd sitting crisscross on the floor with a spread of papers, all covered in what looked like pretty advanced level equations.

"Really?" Buford said, before he could stop himself. "Math?"

Baljeet didn't look up, but instead glared down at his papers. "If you simply came here to insult me, I would like to point out that you did a pretty sufficient job earlier today. There is no need to continue the process."

"Fine." Buford made to walk away, seeing no reason to argue. He only took about four steps before Baljeet stopped him.

"Buford!" he called from his spot on the floor. Buford smirked, but quickly composed his face into a mask of mock surprise.

"Yes?" Baljeet rolled his eyes.

"I think you owe me an apology."

Buford let out a quick snort. "Please, nerd. If anything, you should be apologizing to me. We both know how this goes: I give you a wedgie; you do my homework, I push you around a bit; you carry my stuff. We've got a pretty sweet simbeonis relationship goin' here—"

"Symbiotic!"

"—yeah, that. I've been your bully for years. So why the hell are ya suddenly bein' a little girl about it?"

Baljeet stood up, fists at his sides. "Buford you are such an asshole!" Buford blinked, taken aback. He'd never heard Baljeet swear before. "Why can you not just leave me alone? I am sick of this foolishness! Go bully yourself!" He turned to walk away, but Buford grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the wall. Baljeet felt his shoulder pop as his stomach gave an involuntary lurch. Buford glared down at him, one hand still on the same arm, the other slapped against the wall next to Baljeet's face, trapping him.

"What the hell is your problem?" he demanded, his voice enraged, but his expression betrayed his confusion and hurt.

"You are my problem, Buford!" His voice shook a little, but Baljeet remained firm, despite the fact that this six-foot-four, 220-pound boy had him cornered and could easily break his jaw with one punch. "You have abused me for years and I—"

"—and you were totally fine with it all this time! That's our _thing_. If it was that big of a problem, why didn't cha stop hangin' out with me a long time ago? Frankly," A smile crept across Buford's face. He knew he was about to take things too far, but he couldn't resist. Something made him want to push the little shrimp over the edge. "Frankly, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you _liked_ it." He laughed as Baljeet's face went from an expression of fury to one of pure terror. "You kept followin' me around, all these years so I could bully you. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that—"

"And what about you, Buford?" Baljeet lifted his chin, confidence returning with the anger. "Why have you only ever harassed _me_? No one even thinks you are a bully anymore, but you always mess with _me._" Baljeet pushed Buford's chest with surprising strength, succeeding in pushing him back a few feet. "If I did not know better—"

"Hey guys!" Isabella's voice came from around the curtain on stage right. "Phineas says you guys should get ready, people are starting to show up. Break a leg!"

The boys made eye contact briefly, simultaneously glaring at each other and forging a silent truce. Buford knocked Baljeet out of his way with one arm, ignoring him when he hit the ground with a loud _thud_ and "Aiiii!" and made his way toward the section with the costumes.

Phineas and Ferb were already there, dressed in punk band outfits and applying stage makeup. Phineas perked up when the pair approached, not noticing the tension between them, nor the way Baljeet nursed his arm. "Hey guys! Your stuff is over there." He gestured to the clothes rack. "We go on in fifteen minutes!"

Fourteen minutes later, the four of them stood behind the curtain holding their instruments (except for Buford, who sat behind his drums). Isabella, acting as their stage manager and donning a headset, chatted excitedly with Phineas on stage left. Baljeet and Buford still refused to make eye contact with each other. Baljeet adjusted the microphone to match his height and scratched at his chest—the shirt that had been picked out for him felt very uncomfortable. Although, truth be told, it resembled less of a shirt and more of a loose fishnet. Not to mention that, coupled with the purple leather pants and excessive eye make-up, he was feeling completely emasculated.

Similarly, a few feet behind Baljeet, Buford rubbed his eyes, trying not to smudge the make-up that was running into his eyes. At least, he conceded, he it made it harder to see the dork in front of him in that fruitcake outfit. He practically glared at Baljeet's back, his anger having far from subsided.

To their left, Ferb could easily pick up on the tension between the pair and decided to step in. He walked over to Baljeet, who was now trying to untangle the cord for his guitar with little success, growing more and more frustrated all the while.

"Aiiiyyy!" he whined in annoyance. He looked up as Ferb approached. "Oh, hello, Ferb. Are you ready to rock and roll?" He tried to feign enthusiasm by holding up a fist and faking a nervous smile. Ferb put a consolatory hand on his friend's shoulder, causing Baljeet to let out a great sigh. "I do not know what to do, Ferb," he said, his voice lowered slightly in order to prevent a certain drummer from overhearing. "I just cannot stay calm around him. I am either totally infuriated at his stupid, ignorant comments or…" He hung his head, close to tears. "I should stay far, far away from him, but I cannot. He is still…" He sighed. "He is still my bully."

"_Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the Baljeatles!"_ Phineas' voice flouted over the audience as the curtains began to rise and the crowd cheered.

Baljeet looked at Ferb, panic stricken. Ferb blinked. "Perhaps you should use the music to sort through you emotions and help you solve your problems. It's what many great artists do. Or so I'm told." Ferb walked back to his spot next to Phineas, leaving Baljeet alone, center stage and scared.

**A/N: Okay, I'll be honest—I had a LOT of trouble with this chapter. I got stuck in a lot of parts, and I have no idea if it's totally OOC or not…. Please send me some feedback, guys! I would really, really appreciate it. Also, FYI, I already have most of chapter 3 (or chapter 4, depending on how big a part of it I want the song to be) written. And it's waaaaay better. Like, I'm actually pretty proud of myself. So remember: even if you didn't like this chapter, there's better stuff coming, and the more reviews I get, the faster I'll post it!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter kind of inadvertently turned into a slight song-fic. Mostly because I lack the artistic ability to write my own lyrics, so I was forced to steal them from songs I thought reminded me of Bujeet 3 **

**So I have a proposition—if anyone can guess which songs I used (please don't just plug the lyrics into google—I'll know…somehow) and possibly the artists, they get a prize. Like, an actual prize. Whoever guesses the most song titles/artists gets to have a bit of input for future chapters (more detail on that later). Good luck! Also, for the record, because Buford is kind of singing backup, his lyrics are in parenthesis.**

**Congrats to Grave Bells for being the "reviewer of the week"! I'm glad you liked it—can you feel all the virtual love I'm sending your way? **

**Disclaimer- I don't own Phineas and Ferb or any of the songs used here (even though I may have altered one or two of the lines very slightly)**

Baljeet stared, wide-eyed at the audience. They cheered and shouted, thrilled to be a part of another Flynn-Fletcher project. Suddenly, he remembered why he hadn't been on stage in so long. He suffered from crippling stage fright. The last time the Baljeatles preformed his anger was only narrowly enough to overcome his fear of failure. Sure, he felt anger now, but there was too much underlying sadness; an emotion very poorly suited for rock and roll.

He heard the drums start up behind him—a strong, intense beat. He frowned. Buford was obviously not facing any difficultly with stage fright. And that was exactly the push he needed to start to sing. His voice grew stronger, and his words came from the heart; the heart who's beat increased with the tempo.

_Shut up and let me go_

_This hurts I told you so_

He thought of the metaphorical and literal grip his bully had kept on him for so many years, and the violence between them.

_My black eye casts no shadow_

_Your red eye sees no pain_

Buford played enthusiastically, getting lost in the beat. Glancing up when Baljeet began to sing, he felt a surge of guilt. In the bright stage lights, Buford could see dark bruises forming on Baljeet's upper arm where he'd grabbed him earlier. He began to play louder, overcome with anger (though he was unsure of who that anger was directed to). His own lyrics mixed with Baljeet's.

_(I can be so mean when I wanna be_

_I am capable of really anything)_

Baljeet's frustration overwhelmed him. Buford did not really _hurt _him, but he still rarely stood up for himself. They were caught in a kind of sick cycle of harassment and acceptance.

_Your slaps don't stick_

_Your kicks don't hit_

_So we remain the same_

He'd always been a bully, but how did he let it get this far?

_(How did I become so obnoxious?_

_What is it with you that makes me act like this?)_

Baljeet recalled how brutish and mean Buford could be. Everything about him was infuriating…

_Right beyond the cigarette and the devilish smile_

Still, he couldn't imagine where he'd be without his nerd.

_(You're my perfect little punching bag)_

…and yet these things that frustrated him only made Buford more human, more inexplicably endearing. He considered Buford his best friend and a vital part of his life…

_You're my crack of sunlight_

Buford relied on Baljeet more than he would ever know.

_(And I need you)_

…even if he was borderline abusive.

_Underneath the cuts and bruises_

They really did have something good going on here.

_(Finally gained what no one loses)_

Baljeet's head was spinning, his thoughts reaching back into the parts of his mind he'd tried to stay out of for so long…

_Those thoughts I can't deny_

Buford fought desperately to force out those images that usually only haunted him in his dreams.

_(These sleeping thoughts won't lie)_

And sure, it was all fine and good to sing, when the audience had no clue what either of them was thinking; so simple, to use lyrics to cryptically express themselves. But they both knew they could never say these things plainly, openly to one another. This was their mutual fear and regret, that neither of them knew the other's secret. Their voices rose together, hitting the last few notes in unison as the music reached its final crescendo.

_Cause it's so easy, _

_To sing it to a crowd _

_But it's so hard_

_To say it to you, alone_

The music stopped, the crowd cheered, and the two boys rode the last waves of their adrenaline highs, trying to catch their breath. Then, a spilt second after the last note faded away, the lights suddenly cut out. As everyone plunged into darkness, the crowd exclaimed, virtually in unison, expressions of confusion and disbelief. Isabella jumped into action, yelling into her headset, delegating tasks to different fireside girls. "Gretchen— you check the switch panel, Milly—see if anything else was affected…"

Phineas reached for his microphone, relieved to see that it was working. _"Ladies and gentleman, we're experiencing so technical difficulties. We'll be taking a short intermission. Thank you for your understanding."_

Suddenly, flashlights were being pushed into each of their hands. "Baljeet— you and Buford should go check stage right," Isabella shouted somewhere to his right. "See if something's wrong with the wires down there. Ferb—wait, where's Ferb? Never mind, Phineas, can you…?" Her voice faded as she moved away from the pair. A flashlight clicked on, shining in Baljeet's face.

"Buford!" He held up a hand to shield his eyes.

"Sorry…" muttered a gruff voice. Baljeet switched his flashlight on. The light it cast was dim, raising his already high frustration to a dangerous level. Still, he could just make out the shapes around him. He took an involuntary step back when he realized Buford was closer than he'd thought, a mere foot away from him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and survived his environment.

The curtain was closed now, and the people behind it were all running around frantically, trying to locate the source of the lighting malfunction. It stuck him as a little strange, in fact, that _anything_ the brother's made could have malfunctioned. He couldn't quite make out individual people, but from what he could tell, Isabella was directing the Fireside Girls to different sections backstage, while Phineas seemed to be working on the main circuit breaker on stage left. Ferb was nowhere to be seen. He shrugged, figuring his friend was probably up in the catwalk somewhere, finding the controls for the overhead lighting.

Buford watched the boy in front of him as his face went from that of annoyance and frustration to baffled confusion. Getting impatient, he waved his flashlight back and forth, causing the beam of light to flicker in his eyes.

"Ayyyii—Buford!"

"Come on—you heard her, let's get this over with." He turned around, heading quickly upstage, and taking the better light source with him.

"Buford! I cannot see!" Baljeet stumbled a little bit in his haste to follow. He reached out a hand to balance himself and ended up tugging on the back of Buford's ripped shirt. The force caused one tear to deepen slightly.

Buford jerked his head up, feeling something resembling a punching sensation in his stomach. He reached behind him and pushed the nerd away a little more violently than necessary.

"Hey!" Baljeet exclaimed, landing on the floor.

"Watch where you're goin', homo."

Baljeet's cheeks flamed (though no one could see this in the darkness). "I do not appreciate you calling me that!"

"Whatever." Buford continued to move away. Baljeet pushed himself off of the floor, his rage finally consuming him completely. He ran after the bully, the voices of the Fireside girls growing dim as they headed into the semi-seclusion of stage left behind a section of curtains.

Buford could hear the boy's footstep's rapidly approaching him from behind. He spun around, fists clenched, but before he could defend himself, he felt a surprising amount of force against his chest, coupled with a frustrated cry from Baljeet. He grunted as he fell on his back, overwhelmed by utter shock.

Baljeet, surprised by his own actions, glared down at him, his expression a mixture of astonishment and rage. Buford propped himself up on his elbows, trying to decide his next move. His flashlight had fallen a few feet away, illuminating the pair slightly. The light glinted off Baljeet's eyes, which Buford met.

Suddenly, their expression shifted. The fact that Buford remained on the ground gave Baljeet a sudden burst of confidence. His eyes shown bright, a daring glimmer appeared in them as the adrenaline pumped through his body. He felt empowered—he was finally going to take a stand. Throwing caution to the wind, he propped a foot on the other boy's chest, his hands on his hips; it was a position of dominance; of victory.

Buford could only stare. For a moment he remained paralyzed. He only rarely caught a glimpse of this side of his nerd. It was something, he realized, that he'd been trying to elicit from him all along. And by pushing him closer and closer to the edge, he'd been able to force this more confident, more powerful and daring Baljeet to the surface.

And he couldn't get enough of it.

Simultaneously, the boys matched each other's expressions (as well as thoughts, though they had no way of knowing that). They taunted the each other with their eyes, daring the other to make a move.

Buford finally broke the tension, swinging his hand up to lock behind Baljeet's knee. In one fluid motion, he pulled the boy down while also hoisting himself up. Baljeet let out a small, surprised noise, but stifled it quickly as he regained his balance. He was leaning over, now, with Buford sitting upright, his right hand still wrapped around his companion's knee. They were so close now—so close to that point of no return.

Their faces were inches apart, and their eyes waging a continued battle. Baljeet could count the freckles on Buford's nose. Likewise, even in the dim lighting, Buford could see the way Baljeet's makeup had smudged slightly under his left eye, a result of sweat and his own nervous movements.

In a surprisingly quick motion, Baljeet made for Buford's hand, unraveling it from his own leg. He dragged the boy to his feet and began to lead him further backstage, heading to a place where the pair could be alone.

**A/N: Well, then. I hope you all liked this and that it wasn't OOC or anything (I try REALLY hard to keep everyone in character, so I hope it worked). My next chapter is pretty much already written, but depending on the reviews I get, I might adjust some things. And for the record, there will be no lemons here. Sorry if that disappoints anyone, but I want to keep it appropriate so more people can enjoy it. (Plus I'm a little uncomfortable writing that stuff). I'm really excited for the next chapter—I enjoyed writing it so much, and I think it's one of my best so stay tuned!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Well, I got a pretty underwhelming response to my last chapter * sniff *, but I've got high hopes for this one. Big thanks to my lone reviewer,**** PFTones3482— I wish I could have given Ferb a bigger part in the last chapter, but don't worry, he'll be back ;)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except a Perry the Platypus t-shirt, does that count?**

The volume of the crowd overwhelmed them, so much that they didn't notice the sounds emanating from the maintenance closet a few feet away. Baljeet reached for the handle, hesitating only briefly because of the shivers sent up his spine when Buford's rough fingers needed themselves through the holes in his shirt. When he did open the door, they stopped in their tracks, jarred by what greeted them. They caught only a glace of the pair inside, but it was enough. A shirtless Ferb, with one arm wrapped around the busty blonde, her left leg hitched up around his hip (she wore nothing but an animal print bra and a black, leather skirt) glared daggers at the intruder with make-up smudged eyes. He quickly snapped the door shut, leaving the men on the other side in momentary shock.

The incident (which hardly lasted more than a second) seemed enough to bring them both crashing back into reality. Baljeet released Buford's hand, prompting the larger boy to take a hasty step away. They did not make eye contact; instead just stood there, staring at the closed door (the girl's giggles could be heard from outside), processing what they'd been about to do.

Baljeet was the first to move. He turned on his heel and walked away, back towards the direction of the stage, with no acknowledgement of the man behind him. Buford keep his gaze averted, and when Baljeet had disappeared completely behind a curtain, he took several steps back, until he leaned against the wall opposite the closet. He felt a certain heaviness drag him to the ground, and he sat, one hand running through his hair, gel and sweat matting it down, the other resting on his knee. Suddenly, a rush of anger and frustration blew through him. He began to tug on his hair violently, and with his other hand he made a fist and threw a ferocious punch back into the dry wall behind him, leaving a sizable hole. Not that it mattered, away. The stage would be gone by the time the concert ended, just like everything that was ever built or ever happened in the Flynn-Fletcher backyard.

Just like Baljeet.

Soon, the lights flicked back into existence, followed by cheers from the audience and the crew. Phineas could be heard over the crowd, announcing that the intermission was ending and the show would soon resume. Buford returned to the stage, head down.

For the rest of the show, none of the three boys involved in "the closet incident" (as it would come to be known in each of their minds, for more reasons than one) made eye contact. They finished their set— in a much more subdued manner than before— and exited backstage, Baljeet and Buford with their eyes trained on the ground, Ferb looking straight ahead.

Phineas, of course, was completely oblivious to the tension between his companions. He spouted off enthusiastically with details about how their day was so amazing and that everyone thought they had "totally rocking songs".

"…I'm glad I found that switch in time. I don't know if the audience would have waited through a much longer intermission. Still, it's so _weird_ how the lights just cut out like that…" He glanced at Ferb, who shrugged. Baljeet almostlaughed, remembering Ferb's interest in the lighting earlier that day.

Somewhere between Phineas' excited ramblings and Isabella's enthusiastic greeting of the band, Buford ducked out the back entrance. He breathed in deeply, relishing in the cool night air, the noise behind him fading as the crowd slowly departed. After a moment, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Absentmindedly, he selected one from the carton and rolled it between his thumb and index finger, like he was examining it before he brought it to his mouth. He leaned against the back wall as he lit it and took a long drag.

"Those things will kill you, you know."

The voice startled him, but only briefly, as he recognized its owner. Buford tapped the cigarette pack against the wall, allowing one to separate, and then offered it to the boy next to him.

Ferb accepted, and pulled out a lighter of his own, the Union Jack design visible even in the dim lighting. The pair smoked in silence for several minutes, before Buford decided he couldn't stand it much longer.

"Have you always smoked?" he asked, not quite ready to address the elephant in the room. "Or only after…?" Ferb nodded, acknowledging the latter. There was a pause, then Buford let out a guffaw. "Well, _shit_, Fletcher! We all know you're a man of _action_, but…" Suddenly, Buford found the situation incredibly funny. He was almost doubled over with laughter, while Ferb remained stoically silent, a faint smile gracing his lips. When Buford finally calmed down a bit, he turned to look at his friend. "So, who is she?" he asked, but Ferb merely shrugged, triggering more laughter from his companion.

After a moment, Buford took a deep breath, back against the wall, and put the cigarette to his lips again. "Sorry about that," he said quietly, sincerity in his voice. "We didn't know…" He let the sentence trail off, his previous apprehensions returning.

Ferb's cigarette dangled from between his index and middle finger, he let it drop, and crushed it with his heel. He remained where he was, however, in effect prompting Buford to continue talking.

"I'm not…ya know…" He shook his head and took a final drag, then pinched the crimson end between his thumb and index finger, extinguishing the light before tossing it a few feet away. He let out an exasperated sign. "_Shit."_ He muttered. "What am I gonna do?" Ferb blinked at him, his luminescent eyes the only visible feature in the darkness. Buford ran his fingers through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. "Maybe it's better if this never happened," he said, then with a hint of aggression, "You won't say nothin'? Would ya?" Ferb shook his head and looked away. "Good."

Another long silence followed. Buford knew Ferb was holding back. He'd never been one to interfere. He gave his advice sparingly and with great care. But it was possible, he figured, that Ferb wasn't saying anything because he didn't have anything to say. Perhaps he couldn't give any advice in this situation. Buford would have to figure this out on his own.

Or maybe, Buford reflected, he was already supposed to know what to do, and Ferb wasn't just gonna spell out the obvious.

"Shit," he muttered once more, pulling out another cigarette. Ferb watched quietly as Buford lit up, then inhaled so deep his eyes began to water. Finally, he let it out in a dramatic burst, the smoke curling upward into the night.

**A/N: Weeeeelllll? I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I know, I got really artsy (and angsty) with it, lol. And might I add: go Ferb? But, seriously, I'm really curious to hear what you guys think! Did you like it? OOC? Was it a stretch? So pretty, pretty, pretty please with a platypus on top—review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey all! Thanks to ****PFTones3482 (I hope he's more to your liking in this chapter ****) and The Epic Uber Nerd (I love that username, btw! And thanks, that means a lot!) for reviewing. They get candy.**

**Also, to anyone who cares, the songs used in chapter 3 are (in order of appearance, there are repeats): Shut Up and Let Me Go by The Ting Tings, Kiss with a Fist by Florence and the Machine, Please Don't Leave Me by P!nk (I love her!), I'm Not Dead by P!nk, Dirty Little Secret by All American Rejects, and No Light No Light by Florence and the Machine.**

**I own none of the aforementioned songs or anything PnF related. Which sucks, 'cause they're all so awesome.**

Baljeet sighed, dangling his feet over the edge of the stage. The audience was gone, only their chairs, some empty cups, and other bits of litter remained. And soon all of that would be gone, too. Nothing lasted around here. Not the people, not the inventions, not the stage, nor the music…

Baljeet sighed once more, feeling a strange mix of frustration, anxiety, and disappointment. "Well, someone's feeling a bit down-in-the-dumps, aren't they?" Baljeet's head snapped up at the sound of Isabella's voice above him. He looked up to find her face, upside-down and inches from his, her hair falling around their faces. "Whatcha doin'?" she asked, concern flooding her features. She moved around Baljeet to sit beside him on the stage.

"Wallowing in self-pity, I suppose," he answered, looking away. Before she could inquire further, his expression changed from one of sadness to a kind of far-off inquisitiveness. "Why do you think everything goes away?" he suddenly asked her.

Isabella looked confused. "What do you mean—?"

"Everything always disappears." Isabella frowned.

"Is that what this is about? You're sad that the concert's over?" She reached over and patted him on the shoulder comfortingly. "Baljeet, we can always bring the Baljeatles back. To be honest, I didn't know you were that attached to the band…"

"Isabella, you do not understand, it is not—" He stopped himself. No, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now, Isabella did not need to know about his secret.

"Besides," she proceeded, ignoring his slip-up. "In case you haven't noticed, the stage is still here." He looked up, not sure where she was going with this. "Not everything disappears, Baljeet." Her voice was soft, comforting, but it also contained a hint of knowing. "Okay, yes, Phineas and Ferb make cool things, and by the end of the day, they vanish. But you know what? The next day, we get up and do it all again! Does that make any sense?" Baljeet shook his head.

"Isabella, I'm not sure—"

"Look, even though that stuff disappears, everything else stays the same! It's always been—and hopefully always be—the five of us going on cool adventures together. Every day is different, but we're always going to be together on those days. Baljeet—" She looked suddenly very intense. "—if I had realized that the day Phineas and I got together, I could have saved myself a lot of stress." Baljeet blinked.

"Wait, you were worried—?"

"—that Phineas would some how forget about me or get bored with me the next day? Yeah, I was. It seems pretty stupid now…" She stole a glance over her shoulder at her boyfriend, who was currently packing away the instruments. He smiled widely at her and gave her a quick but enthusiastic wave. "…but I was worried about it." She turned back to Baljeet, looking him straight in the eye. "And _you_ shouldn't be."

After a moment, Baljeet looked away, and Isabella took that as her cue to leave. She stood up, politely stating that she needed to get back before curfew, then walked away to go say goodbye to Phineas.

Baljeet was left to ponder what she had just said. Briefly, it crossed his mind that she might _know_, but he disregarded that thought. Her logic was flawed too flawed, in fact. If she knew, her advice would not be so troublesome. He was not worried about his friends remaining a constant. He knew very well that Phineas and Ferb, and Isabella, _and_ Buford would be there, in that same backyard, the next day. It was he that fleeting thing he worried about. That moment, earlier, when Baljeet had felt so confident, when the two of them seemed to be on the same wavelength, when it looked like something was about to _happen—_that was what Baljeet concerned himself with. It was exactly that kind of moment that happened only once, to be all but forgotten the next day. Therefore, Isabella's math did not add up.

Becoming frustrated, he decided to do what he did best. He reached behind himself to pull his guitar case closer. He opened it up, lifting up his guitar to retrieve the notebook and pencil stashed underneath. Then he began to write, furiously scribbling his theory:

_If daily invention or event= DI. DI is a singular occurrence. Participants (Ps) remain a constant. Prove that DI+Ps=DI__2__…_

His thoughts flowed together and he jot down whatever came into his head. Math made sense to him. So putting his thoughts down in the form of a proof—something innately logical—would help him make sense of his thoughts.

Theoretically.

He was still scribbling away madly when he felt someone's breath on his face. "Call me a romantic, but I hardly think emotions can be quantified in such a fashion."

Baljeet jumped, nearly falling off the stage. Then he rounded on Ferb. "Is this 'National Sneak up on Baljeet Day' or something!?" Ferb merely blinked.

"Sorry," Baljeet muttered as he closed the notebook and took a deep breathe. "It is just that I am a little on edge right now."

Ferb leaned casually against the stage, his head level with Baljeet's shoulder. Baljeet could smell cigarette smoke on his jacket. Ferb looked over inquisitively, inviting the boy to keep talking.

Baljeet signed dramatically. "None of it adds up, Ferb!" he said, exasperated. "I do not know if I can handle this—I cannot make sense of anything!" He threw up his hands in frustration. "Isabella was wrong: tomorrow, everything will be gone and it will be like this never happened—and I should be happy about that, but I am not!"

Ferb let Baljeet continue to vent. He watched silently as Baljeet's disposition shifted from frustration to confusion to anguish. Finally, as Baljeet took a break to catch his breath, Ferb laid down a though for consideration. His voice was soft and careful when he said, "Have you considered…" He looked pointedly at a large figure moving across the lawn towards the gate. "…that you may not be the only one with conflicting emotions right now?"

Just then, a green beam of light shot across the sky and struck the stage. Baljeet was not at all surprised when he felt its solid structure dissolve beneath him.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this one! I threw a little Phinbella in there for kicks ;P And Ferb had two lines! He's chatty 'cause he didn't get a line in chapter 3. Also, sorry about the proof, it's been awhile since I've done one of those, but I'm assuming you got the gist. Please review! :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I hope you all had a fun and safe Halloween. I myself had a pretty cool time going to Rocky Horror Picture Show (twice!) with my friends. PS—did anyone else notice the Rocky Horror reference in the 2011 PnF Halloween special? I kinda flipped shit when I saw it. Anyway, enough of my ramblings: as always, thank you to my reviewers, please keep it up! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

The sight of Phineas and Isabella's unnecessarily cute goodbye was a little too much for Buford. He stomped out of the yard, through the fence, and down the road. He couldn't remember ever leaving that backyard in a bad mood before.

He was about halfway down the block when he began to hear light footfalls behind him. "Buford!" He turned around to see Baljeet running to catch up with him. When Baljeet saw he had the bully's attention, he allowed himself to catch his breath, stopping to rest his hands on his knees. He'd never been terribly athletic.

"What do ya want, pipsqueak?" Buford growled, but his eyes softened at the sight of the other boy's expression. It was one of exhaustion mixed with a bit of desperation and perhaps, sadness.

"I want…" He took a staggered breath. "I want a truce, Buford." He'd decided this was best— a return to a state in which variables had been defined. After all, that's what you do when you cannot solve an equation: start over.

Buford blinked. "A truce?"

"Yes." Baljeet stood up now, his composure returning. "I cannot stand all of the fighting. I mean, I know that we do not normally get along, but…" He paused, searching for the right words. "…but I do not want to be your enemy. I want to be your friend. Or frenemy, or whatever the hell we are normally." He tacked on the last past hastily, responding to Buford's raised eyebrows. Then he added softly, "I just do not want you to hate me."

Buford took a step towards his nerd. "I don't hate cha," he said flippantly, though his expression betrayed his sincerity. Baljeet smiled and made to hug the larger boy, but thought better of it and stopped himself, putting out a hand instead.

"Friends?" he ventured. "Or, you know, whatever…"

"Whatever," Buford replied cheerfully, taking hold of Baljeet's hand and shaking it. Suddenly, he used his advantageous grip to pull Baljeet into a headlock, followed by a quick noogie.

"Buford!" he whined playfully. He didn't care, truthfully. This mild teasing and juvenile bullying was something comfortable for them, something safe. It was perfectly okay as long as Buford did not notice the goose bumps sprouting up on Baljeet's skin.

But notice them he did. Buford released the boy and gave him a concerned look. "Are you cold, 'Jeet? Yer covered in goose bumps." He frowned, wondering why he didn't have a jacket over that mesh shirt. Slowly, he began to shrug out of his own.

"Oh, yes," Baljeet said, rubbing his arm sheepishly, which only reinforced the notion in Buford's mind. "Yes, that is why I have goose bumps…" His eyes widened a little as Buford wordlessly draped his own jacket over the nerd's shoulders. Of course, this was also perfectly okay. Buford had expressed protective sentiments in the past. It was perfectly normal. "O-oh. Thank you, Buford."

"Don't mention it." He shrugged and turned to continue walking in the direction of his house. Baljeet followed closely behind. "Don't you have a class or somethin' you gotta wake up for tomorrow?"

"No," he replied sadly, quickening his pace to keep up. "I was going to attend a seminar on quantum mechanics and advanced string theory, but it was postponed."

"Buford doesn't care."

"But you asked—" Baljeet quieted when the larger boy punched him playfully on the arm. But Buford had forgotten that that was the arm with bruises already formed upon it. Before he could stop himself, Baljeet let out a small whimper. Buford glanced down nervously, realizing what he'd done, guilt washing over him.

"Shit, man, I'm sorry," he began. He'd never _really_ hurt Baljeet before, and he couldn't stand the though of having actually inflicted damage.

"Do not worry about it," Baljeet assured, sounding sincere. He waved a hand and started to turn away. "It is no big deal. But it is getting late, I should get home."

Buford rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah," he muttered as his friend (or whatever) retreated into the night.

Baljeet was hardly surprised when a rock hurdled at his closed window a few hours later. He rolled out of bed and stretched. "I am coming," he muttered.

He crossed the room and threw open the window, observing the scene below. Buford stood a few feet below him, a pile of rocks in his arms. "Hey, 'Jeet! Lemme in!" he called softly, so as not to wake Baljeet's parents.

"This is a one-story house," he replied, feigning annoyance. "You did not need the rocks, you could have just knocked." He backed away from the window to give the bully space to squeeze through. Buford hoisted himself through the window and landed with surprising grace on Baljeet's floor.

"Yeah, but why pass up a chance to break a window?" he said casually. Baljeet sighed. "Look, nerd, I wanna apologize—"

"It is really not necessary," he assuaged.

"I'M GONNA APOLIGIZE, NERD, AND YOU'RE GONNA SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" Buford scolded, pointing a burly finger at Baljeet's chest. Baljeet raised his hands in mock-surrender. "I didn't wanna hurt you!" he continued angrily. "But you were bein' a little bitch and ya wouldn't talk ta me or nuthin'." He began to advance forward, forcing Baljeet to walk back. "I'm sorry, though. It wasn't right and I ain't into that shit."

"Buford—" Baljeet began to sweat as his back hit the wardrobe.

"No—let me finish!" Their faces were inches apart, Buford's eyes glaring as Baljeet tried to control his quickened heartbeat. "I was frustrated, okay? 'Cause ya weren't being Baljeet, ya know?" His hand came to rest on the wardrobe, a hairsbreadth away from Baljeet's tightened stomach. "And I didn't like they idea of not bullying ya anymore—you're my nerd, kid! You hear that? _My_ ner—"

His words were cut off as Baljeet forcefully crushed his lips to Buford's.

**A/N: *Raises eyebrows * huh? Huh? Whadya think? I really hope you liked this one; it was especially fun to write (sorry it took so long—I've been busy with registration, homework, Rocky Horror, etc., etc…). **

**Serious question though: how much (if any) smut content do you guys want in the future chapters? What I have in mind now is super vanilla, but I might be convinced to push the envelope a little tinsy bit if enough people want it. **

**Either way—please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_**PLEASE READ:**_** Okay guys, first of all—thank you SO much for all of the great reviews, I'm so glad you liked the last chapter! Now, most of the people who reviewed asked for some smutty content (naughty readers! Lol), but one or two people said they'd like to keep things appropriate, so here's what I did: this chapter gets a little mature at some points (I think the T rating still stands, though, it's not THAT bad). But if you don't like that sort of thing, read the beginning (or as long as you feel comfortable), and you should be able to skip to the next chapter no problem.**

**That being said, I hope you all enjoy this lovely smuttiness!**

**Disclaimer: I'm clearly not Dan or Swampy…**

Baljeet snapped his head back, his eyes wide, and his face red; he was terrified by what he'd just done.

And even more terrified of what Buford might do next.

Buford looked momentarily shocked. For a split second, he didn't move. Then his features morphed into an expression of pure, unbridled rage. Baljeet began to shake with nerves. An apology rose to his lips, but he could only manage a sort of strangled cry as Buford grabbed him by the collar and yanked the boy upward. His feet dangled in midair, their faces level. Baljeet could see the flames burning in the bully's eyes.

All of the sudden, he was being thrown across the room. Baljeet was momentarily relieved to land on the bed, rather than on the floor or some other hard surface, until he caught sight of Buford stomping towards him, fists clenched. He raised his hands to shield his face and squeezed his eyes shut, certain he was about to receive the worst beating of his life.

He squealed as a large hand grabbed both his wrists and jerked them over his head, leaving him exposed and defenseless. Hot breath fell onto his face as Buford seethed above him. "What the hell do ya think you're doin'?" he growled. "Look at me!" Baljeet cracked open one eye slightly, overcome with dread. This had definitely not been worth it. Buford's heated gaze was searing holes into Baljeet's face. He was bearing his teeth menacingly. His body, propped up by his free hand, appeared especially threatening in the muted lighting, which cast eerie shadows over his muscular frame. He lowered his face slowly and deliberately, causing more fear—and, though he was ashamed to admit it, arousal—to course through Baljeet's body.

"_I'm_ the bully. _I'm_ the one in charge here," Buford said forcefully. Baljeet's eyes opened wide. "_I_ make the moves." Then suddenly Bufords lips were assaulting his own, a kind of ravenous fury fueling his movements. Baljeet was momentarily frozen in astonishment and panic. He struggled against his captor, and whipped his head to the side, freeing his mouth.

"Wait—!" Buford used his free hand to grab Baljeet's chin and force the boy to face him again.

"Shut up!" he growled, a hint of desperation in his voice. And then they were kissing again, mouths mashing together in a sloppy, forceful release of all the tension they'd been feeling for so long. Buford lowered his body so it pressed firmly against Baljeet's, who responded by pushing upward; the two of them began to grind their hips together, emphasizing the physical evidence of their mutual excitement.

A sound somewhere between a whimper and a moan slipped from Baljeet's lips. Buford took this as encouragement and decided to push these boundaries a little further. His free hand began to trail down Baljeet's chest, causing the latter to thrust his pelvis upward in response. Buford's hand reached the bottom of the nerd's t-shirt, and he slid his hand underneath, fingers running along Baljeet's chest and stomach. Then, slowly, teasingly, he moved his hand lower. His thumb ran along the edge of the boy's pants. He flipped his hand over, palm facing up, and experimentally dipped his index finger below the waistband of Baljeet's pajamas.

Baljeet's eyes flew open, his heart rate accelerating (he did not think it was possible; his heart was already beating at an unnatural pace). "Buford…" he murmured fearfully against the other boy's lips.

Buford's eyes opened as well, and they bore straight down into his friend's. There was nothing to say now, and they both knew it. They both knew what the other wanted, and what was going to happen. They were both aware of implications of their actions, and that there would be ramifications. They knew they might regret this, and that things were about to get much more complicated between the two of them.

But neither cared. This had been coming for so long, and the mixture of relief and passion that _this_ inspired was far too overwhelming to allow those negative thoughts to devastate this incredible moment. This would change everything, they knew, but it did not matter.

This was the point of no return.

**A/N: …**

**Well…**

**I know it's short, but the next one is already in the works. I was gonna make them one chapter, but it was getting too long, plus I'm having a bit of trouble with some parts. Still, I should have it to you guys soon! In the mean time- REVIEW. please… **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you so much for the super-amazing reviews! PFTone3482: Yeah, I wouldn't want my mom to catch me **_**writing**_** it either lol. NoShirtsNoShoesNoSheldon: well, thank you, I was going for that **** Nice username, btw. SpiderWoman: Actually, the reference was unintended…but I am glad you liked it. Guest: I am truly flattered! I'm glad you think it's that good!**

**In case anyone didn't read the last chapter, here's a quick, **_**clean**_** summary: Buford was mad 'cause 'Jeet made the first move, not him, and then they got a little frisky and…yeah…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own PhF**

When Baljeet woke up, a familiar (though hardly pleasing) scent greeted him. He groaned and slowly eased himself into a sitting position, wincing when he realized how sore he was. "Those things will kill you, you know," he said to the boy sitting in the office chair by the window.

Buford glanced around at his nerd, noting the way the sheets fell away as he sat up, revealing a slim, yet striking chest; the light of early dawn crept in through the open window flattered his skin tone immensely. "Doubt it," he grumbled in response. He ground his cigarette butt into the windowsill and tossed it outside. "I'm pretty sure you're gonna be the death of me," he mumbled, almost to himself.

Baljeet blushed at the comment and glanced down at his hands nervously, fidgeting. He knew they would have to get around to this conversation eventually, but he did not know how to breach the topic. "Umm, Buford…"

"Don't." Baljeet looked up to find Buford casually rolling the chair back to his desk, then reaching down to pick something off the floor. Baljeet's blush deepened when he realized it was his own underwear. Buford himself had already managed to locate and put on his own boxers and t-shirt. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from Baljeet, and tossed the briefs over his shoulder to his companion. Baljeet quickly squirmed into them as Buford went on. "We don't need to figure this out right now, 'kay? Let's just enjoy this." He eased back, stretching his arms over his head, letting a content smile ease into his features as he plopped down on the bed.

Baljeet frowned and leaned forward to make eye contact with the bully. "I just do not understand—Ah!" Buford grabbed his opposite hand and pulled, causing Baljeet to lose balance and flip over. He was now lying on his back, one foot landing on top of a pillow, the other caught beneath his leg in the twisted sheets. He raised his head and saw Buford's mischievous grin from behind their still tangled left hands.

"You don't have to quantify everything," he stated. Baljeet raised an eyebrow. "What? You're not the only one who can use big words 'round here."

"But I like things to be quantified! I want things to make sense, I want to understand the variables and the equations—"

"This ain't math, 'Jeet," Buford said, sitting up to stretch his arms. "It's sex."

Baljeet blushed furiously. "How am I still the one humiliated by all of this?!" he wondered aloud. He grabbed a pillow and covered his face with it. "I mean, at this point, what do _I_ have to lose? You, on the other hand," he gestured wildly in Buford's direction. "Do you not have some sort of 'tough guy' reputation to maintain?"

Buford looked truly offended by that. "Are you sayin' me bein' gay makes me less tough? I can still beat you into a pulp, ya little runt!"

Baljeet rolled his eyes; threats such as this had long since stopped having an effect on him. "I am not saying it _would_, I just thought you would not be so receptive to the idea." He sat up straight. "You _were_ the one making all of those homophobic remarks yesterday."

"What're you talkin' about?" Buford looked genuinely perplexed, and Baljeet shot him a glare.

"You know what I mean!" He was truly upset now. "You kept calling me 'gay' and—"

"And what?" Buford stood up, looking calm yet somehow still a little threatening. "I was right, wasn't I?" Baljeet clenched his fists in anger.

"That is not the point! Besides, I am not even—"

"Yeah, I know, your bi, whatever." Buford flicked a hand indifferently.

"You do not know—"

"Yeah, I do. I've always been good at givin' people labels, nerd." He smirked, a knowing twinkle appearing in his eyes.

"It is hurtful!" Baljeet practically shouted. "And yesterday you were just being cruel!"

"It's not like you can that stuff seriously coming from _me_." Buford sneered.

"How was I supposed to know?" Baljeet was standing now, too, utterly at a loss to explain his friend's actions. Buford just snorted.

"Oh come on!" he teased. "I don't exactly hide it, do I?" Baljeet paused, confusion sweeping over him. "I got my left ear pierced, for Christ's sake!" Baljeet could only face palm.

"Buford, that does not mean anything," he said, exasperated. "That stopped meaning anything about twenty years ago."

Buford looked flabbergasted. "Seriously? Well, damn…" Baljeet sighed and walked around the bed to stand closer to the other boy.

"So you are telling me," he clarified. "that you have not been hiding or confused about or compensating for your sexuality at all?" Buford nodded. "Why did you not tell anyone?"

"No one ever asked." Baljeet blinked as Buford sat down on the edge of the bed again. "'sides, I didn't care if people knew it or not. I just didn't want anyone to know I had a soft spot for you."

"Gee, thank you," Baljeet muttered sarcastically, though the blush was starting to return to his checks.

"Don't get all offended—it wasn't my decision!"

"What?"

"It's all in the Bully Code: keepin' crushes a secret, stayin' tough and intimidating and whatnot." He shrugged. "I guess some asshole _Pataki_ ruined the fun for everything else…"

"Fun?" The mischievous look in Buford's eye made Baljeet uneasy. Yet for reasons not quite known to him, he still obediently took a few steps forward when Buford gestured for him to come closer.

"Yeah," he said. "Fun." He swiftly reached out and grabbed Baljeet's butt, prompting a yelp from the latter. "Fun, like sexual harassment."

"_Buford!"_

"What?" He laughed. "I'm still a bully."

Baljeet grumbled, but yelped again when Buford used his free hand to yank the boy into his lap. He pressed Baljeet's ear close to his mouth and murmured playfully, "And you're still _my_ nerd."

**A/N: D'awww…I hope you guys liked reading this as much as I liked writing it. This is probably the end (so sad, I know!). I'm not really sure how I would continue, seeing as everything's wrapped up so neatly. Also, I'm thinking of starting up a songifc drabble series…so these two will be returning **** But feel free to review anyway (maybe someone could give me an idea for an epilogue or sequel or something…?), and let me know what you thought about the ending, Buford's character development (yay for character development!) and that little reference I snuck in there… ;) **

**And, yes, I realize Buford comes across as a chain smoker. Not sure how that happened, it just seemed to fit, I guess.**

**Love you guys! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	9. Epilogue

**A/N: Gah! I couldn't stay away! This story (and this pairing) are just too much fun, I couldn't resist! So here's a little treat for you guys:**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own anything!**

"Are you sure you are okay with this, Buford?" Baljeet asked nervously. They stood, hand in hand, right outside the fence surrounding the Flynn-Fletcher yard. It had been two weeks since the concert that sparked their relationship, and they had been keeping it a secret ever since. Not because either was embarrassed or ashamed, they just were not sure of the right way to approach their friends with this bit of news.

At least, Baljeet was unsure. From the start, Buford had advocated for a very public, very ostentatious announcement. The idea of making a large group of people uncomfortable while simultaneously getting a rise out of Baljeet (so to speak) seemed to amusing him greatly, but Baljeet was not as enthusiastic. "I do not think that is entirely appropriate, Buford," he'd scolded, though his lips had twitched with the hint of a smile that only served to provoke his very excitable boyfriend.

So, eventually, they decided to compromise.

Buford snorted. "_I'm_ fine, runt—are _you_ okay?" Baljeet took in a deep breath.

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Okay."

They pushed open the fence and walked in together, their hands still intertwined. Underneath the tree in the yard sat the brothers. They chatted casually with Isabella, who stood next to Phineas. They looked up as the boys entered. Ferb nodded and Isabella smiled in greeting while Phineas hopped up to go and fill them in about today's plans. None of them acknowledged the handholding, although that was hardly a surprise. The pair had a history of strange entrances and odd policies on physical contact (for several years, before Baljeet hit his growth spurt, Buford had made a habit of tucking him under an arm and carry him casually around like a suitcase).

"Hey guys—" Phineas began.

"ATTENTION! WE HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT!" Buford bellowed over his friend's words. Then he took one step to the left and gestured to Baljeet. "Take it away, kid."

Baljeet tapped his fingers together fretfully and let out a nervous giggle. "Uh-ummm, w-well, you see—"

"We're dating, bitches!" Buford declared, spreading his arms wide, then allowing one to fall around Baljeet's shoulders. The latter blushed and smiled meekly at his friends.

The group was silent for a moment, then Phineas groaned loudly. Baljeet watched in astonishment as he pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and placed a twenty-dollar bill into Isabella's outstretched hand. She grinned broadly as she accepted the cash, then turned to the baffled boys by the fence. "How long?" she asked cheerfully.

"Two weeks."

Phineas sighed dramatically as he retrieved his wallet once again. This time he handed ten dollars each to both Isabella and Ferb, who both smiled triumphantly (though admittedly Isabella was a bit more animated).

"Wait one moment," Baljeet said, waving his hands in front of himself. "You knew about us?"

"Well, Phineas didn't," Ferb replied matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, you were never one to pick up on relationship cues all that well," Isabella added, smirking. Phineas rolled his eyes.

"Hey, I'm not _that_ oblivious," he defended. "Besides," he added, a coy smile playing on his face. "I'd like to think I've gotten a bit better." Then he surprised Isabella with an impromptu tickle attack. She giggled and complained lightheartedly, but got him to stop by planting a quick kiss on his lips.

"Hey now— with the P.D.A." Buford complained, pretending to shield his eyes. The couple turned again to face the group, both smiling broadly, a faint blush appearing on their cheeks.

"So, let me get this straight," Baljeet interjected, surprise and disbelief still lingering in his voice. "you knew about us? And you are all okay with it?"

"Well, yeah." Phineas shrugged. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Baljeet let out the breath he'd been holding in. Buford nudged his ribs playfully, "See, 'Jeet? I toldja so." He grinned, relaxing into Buford's side. Suddenly, Baljeet heard a soft chattering to his right. He looked down and smiled.

"Oh, there you are, Perry."

**A/N: There it is! I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have—review and let me know what you think! I'm also considering starting a song/drabble fic centered on these two with maybe a few other pairings thrown in for fun! I'm going to try to finish **_**His Perfect Storyline**_** first, though (shameless plug: if you're a Ferbessa or just plain Ferb fan you should go check it out!). Thanks always to my lovely reviewers; you guys are the best!**


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